


A Day Of Importance

by awesomecookies



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Birthday, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, I don't know about the title, I'm not creative enough, M/M, Morning thoughts, Other, Post-Canon, Self-Indulgent, Yuuri's birthday, better late than never though right?, birthday fic, don't mind it, i'm late, thoughts about retirement, yes I'm aware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:57:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomecookies/pseuds/awesomecookies
Summary: In all honesty, Victor knows he should be worrying about retirement. He knows he isn't as young as he was before. He isn't old. He's still twenty eight. But he needs to find a new profession.  He knows somehow he has to retire at some point. His body won't keep up. He may be a living legend, but he's only human after all.And somehow Victor figures, he's okay with that.Or: Victor thinks about his life so far and how this day had been important through out his life without him even knowing it.





	A Day Of Importance

**Author's Note:**

> HI I;m back! With another self-indulgent fic!  
> Yes I know I'm late....really late...but it seemed a waste if i don't post it so..?  
> Oh and on the topic of birthdays, I found out my grandma's birthday is on Nov. 29!  
> And guess what? My grandpa's (his husband) birthday is....you got it on December 25! hahaha i shit you not...  
> okay enough rambling...enjoy?

It's a wonder how people can go on in their days, not knowing how a certain day can hold such special meaning to someone from across the world.

Billions of people experience a day in billions of different other ways.

To some, a certain day can be someone's worse, while to others their best. Truly, it's a conundrum in life.

Victor walks by a bridge, he's staring off into the not exactly dawn horizon. The sky was still a dark grey and blue, not exactly morning, and not exactly evening. It's the rare moment where the night meets the day, and it looks so calming. There were still remnants of stars twinkling and a sliver of the pale waning moon. Victor lets his thoughts wander free.

He thinks time passes on too quickly for his liking. He is a competitive athlete after all. Days spent in training pass on into weeks, and weeks turn into months. Months to years and the next thing you know you're already old. You need to retire. Your body no longer holds up and you're breaking apart.

He supposes that's how life is, but it seems faster as an athlete. It's unfair, but that's how it is.

He's restless tonight. It's been a while since he's gone to walk alone, it's dangerous to walk the streets of St. Petersburg alone, but the cold Russian air is beckoning him to come closer, the Neva calls to him like a song. He finds himself walking by the bridge.

In all honesty, Victor knows he should be worrying about retirement. He knows he isn't as young as he was before. He isn't _old._ He's still twenty eight. But he needs to find a new profession.  He _knows_ somehow he has to retire at some point. His body won't keep up. He may be a living legend, but he's only human after all.

And somehow Victor figures, he's okay with that.

The yellow lamplight casts a serene glow on the slumbering city. It hasn't been turned off just yet and it illuminates the place with an uncanny sort of beauty. The silent winter dawn is spellbinding. Victor leans down to the cold railings of the bridge. He stares off to the Neva, flowing calmly. He sees his own reflection, blurred by the running water, but enough to picture an image. He finds his own pair of eyes staring back at him.

He doesn't know where the sudden calm was coming from. He didn't know what to make of it either. He just know that he's awfully content.

He knows his younger self dreaded the word retirement. He dreaded the idea of not competing. His sixteen year old self would've wanted to go on till he broke his bones. His sixteen year old self was but a young child with eyes ready to take on the world, hungry for success in a way he never knew can be satiable.

Snow starts to fall, piling a thin sheet of white all over the city. Victor breathes out, a thin white mist comes out.

His twenty year old self would've watched the world with confusion. He still loved the ice, but it has made his soul heavy like lead. He still has something to prove, a thirst to quench and an audience to surprise. But everything has become predictable. Predictability is tedious. He wants to enthrall the world. He knew he could still enthrall the world.

Twenty four year old Victor would've contemplated retirement, but would be afraid. For who is he without the ice? Who is he without the medals and the golds?  Twenty four year old Victor dreaded the ice, but cannot part from it. He's spent too long sacrificing his life and love to the ice, and he ends up wondering if the world would even bother to know past Victor Nikiforov, the living legend. If the world would look past the man who won golds upon golds. And in honesty, Victor is scared to know the answer.

Victor wraps his scarf tighter as the wind blows, carrying with it a winter chill. He contemplates some more as he rubbed his numb fingers together for warmth. He's usually immune to the cold, he's a figure skater after all, but today is a different day. Today, he lowers his defenses for the somber streets of St. Petersburg's early dawn. He lowers his walls that only few gets to see.

Twenty seven year old Victor would've stared at the world with emptiness. He's given everything he's got. He's won enough golds to last a lifetime. He's reached a place no one else can reach. The name Victor Nikiforov will be written in history as a legend. He's accomplished, he should feel accomplished--

\--he feels nothing.

Victor waits for the sunrise.

The sun refuses to rise.

At twenty seven, Victor realizes that he's missing something, someone very important. He doesn't what or who, but he knows it's out there. Twenty seven years passed till he found him, found what he has always been looking for.

The sun peeks from the horizon, the Neva flows, a new wind blows. A new day is coming.

Victor stares at the golden ring that adorns his right hand, it glitters under the yellow lamplight and he thinks immediately of Yuuri.

Yuuri is perfect in every way. Yuuri, his Yuuri. His beautiful Yuuri. Who's always been his since the first day, who was long in love before he ever knew him. Yuuri, who loved him before they've ever met. Who looked beautiful on the ice, while carrying the world on his shoulders, keeping the demons in his head. Yuuri, who was the first to accept him as who he was-- _is_. Who loved him for being him and not the _Victor Nikiforov_ who one gold. Not the living legend, not the international play boy. No.

Just Victor.

The cries of the seagulls can be heard overhead. What was once just a sliver of sunlight is now an outburst of warmth and brightness. Victor feels the coldness melt away like the snow on the first day of spring. His once terse posture relaxes.

And he realize, just Victor isn't so bad after all. Because without the ice, without the medals and the golds, without the thrill of the audience as they cheer from the stands while he brings out surprise after surprise, he's still someone. Someone worth loving.

He isn't Victor Nikiforov because of the ice.

Because, even without all the glory, the fame, the gold, just Victor is in love with Yuuri Katsuki.

He is Victor Nikiforov because he loves his poodle, he is Victor because he loves to drink his tea with jam, because he loves to eat Katsudon, because he's extra as hell, because he's vain and petty, because he loves the ice. He is Victor Nikiforov because he loves his husband dearly.

He is Victor Nikiforov because of everything he's been through. Not because of what anyone say.

Soon, he may be old. He may no longer skate the same way before. His knees may no longer be strong enough, soon he'll live an ordinary life, a mundane life as just Victor.

And that's okay.

The sun is up in the sky, no trace of the stars can be found, nor the silver moon that once looked down upon him. The lamplight has been put out, the dark sky is a bright blue and grey. St Petersburg has awoken.

So long as Yuuri is by his side, he'll pick being just Victor anytime. He'll pick the mundane life anytime.

He starts to walk back to his apartment. The once dull apartment that he called his 'home' had always been so suffocating. It looked like it hasn't been lived, empty. It was never a home, it was just a house.

That was before Yuuri though.

The streets are getting livelier, people are waking up, the stores opening and brandishing their now open signs. The smell of coffee wafted out.

Victor finally reaches his apartment. What was once an empty house was filled with life now. It's in the little things really. Like how the walls were filled with frames, and the room was filled with little trinkets and souvenirs from their travels. How the hamper was filled with clothes smaller than Victor's size. Half written notes and books littered around, how a mug of day old, half drank tea sat by the kitchen sink. And how the musky scent of another person mingled with his own.

Most importantly, it's how his beautiful husband was sleeping in their room, on the be they share.

Now, Victor can truly say this little apartment has become a home. And he's got Yuuri to thank for that.

He doesn't deserve to have him in his life.

And so today is a very important day, because on this day, twenty five years ago, on the twenty ninth of November, the greatest gift Victor could ever asked was born. The single greatest thing life could possibly offer opened his beautiful brown eyes to the world, fragile and small.

Twenty five years ago, Katsuki Yuuri was born in this world. And Victor can't believe he's lived twenty five years not knowing that an angel was born from the heavens, that twenty five years ago, on this day his soulmate was born. He's lived this day twenty five years, not knowing how important this day to him actually was.

Victor walks towards his husband, staring at his beautiful sleeping face. He'll never tire of him, no matter what he does, he'll always be beautiful to him. He presses a quick, tender kiss on his husband's forehead, brushing away the ebony locks from his face.

Yuuri's dark lashes flutters on his pale cheek. He stirs ever slightly, eyes cracking open to reveal a pair of sleep addled eyes of the deepest burgundy and chocolate.

"Mhm...Vitya, it's too early for this. Come back to bed." The raspy sound of Yuuri's voice whispered to Victor, clutching his sleeves.

"I wanted to greet you early for your birthday Solnyshko." Victor buries his nose in Yuuri's hair, breathing in the familiar scent of mint and cinnamon and something simply Yuuri.

"Cold. You always get cold too fast." Yuuri mumbled when Victor's cold nose brushed against his ear, trailing down to his neck. Yuuri buries himself some more under the duvet. Victor chuckles and hugs Yuuri, hands lingering by the hem of Yuuri's shirt, warming up his fingers with his husband's body heat.

"Then warm me up." Victor teases playfully, nipping at Yuuri's sensitive neck. Yuuri shudders before shoving Victor away.

"Vitya let me sleep. I only turn twenty five once, and I'm planning on sleeping in till afternoon. We can do all your plans later." He rolls to his side, facing away from Victor. He tries to sound annoyed, but he can't hold back a faint smile.

"Mmm....stingy." Victor pouts, crossing his hands across his chest.

"I'm getting old after all." Yuuri murmurs under the duvet. He huffs out a silent laugh. "Vitya. Bed. Sleep. Now." Yuuri says without as much as looking at Victor. He must be still so sleepy if he's reverting to one word sentences. Victor humors him as he takes off his scarf, gloves and coat, stripping until he's only down to his underwear.

He lies down next to Yuuri under the covers, hands snaking to Yuuri's waist. His beloved's back presses against his chest as he sighs out in contentment. He buries his nose unto Yuuri's neck. The petite man shudders from the cold but didn't complain.

"I love you." Victor whispers into his ear. Yuuri sighs, a soft little sound.

"I love you too Vitya."

Victor smiles because despite what the world could possibly offer, he'd be 'just Victor' anytime if he could have this for the rest of his life.

"Happy Birthday Solnyshko."

**Author's Note:**

> alright! how was it?? too sappy? hahaha thoughts?   
> Also just a question what time do you guys go to school and go home? cause i think 8-10 hours of school--is apparently--abnormal to other countries....  
> just so you know, I'm still in high school so....


End file.
